


Ride The Bike

by ravingLimey



Category: Brave Police J-Decker
Genre: Clitplay, M/M, Messy but gets the job done, PWP, Riding, Sex on a bike, Smut, Sticky, gratuitous English, spikesub, valvedom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 11:09:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2426558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravingLimey/pseuds/ravingLimey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gunmax and Drill Boy fuck because spike rhymes with bike.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ride The Bike

**Author's Note:**

> because fuck you and your penetrative dominance  
> narrative describes drill boy as a brat, kid, and boy. not enough for it to be considered age play, and i definitely wasnt going for underage, its not like theres a daddy kink, but i figured there should be a warning in case anyones uncomfortable.  
> (tbh the braves wouldnt have bits like this but sticky>pnp)  
> shout out to IRL and URL friends for input on roboclitties and putting up with my fandom jargon!

When Gunmax asked If he wanted a ride on gun bike, he thought they would go for a drive.

Instead when Gunmax swung a long leg over the seat of his bike he scooted forward more than normal then rose up a little on his feet. “Drill Boy, get behind me.”

Drill Boy scrambled onto the seat behind Gunmax, hands holding each other in his lap. He could sit still if he tried, despite what Power Joe said. He still wanted to grab onto those hips right in front of him, though. But he didn't. That'd be rude, and Drill Boy was better than that, unlike a certain monoformer.

However, the officer was having none of that. “Closer.  _Come on baby,_  I won't bite- unless you want me to,” He wriggled his aft and looked over his shoulder. Kid was still on the back seat, fidgeting.

Drill Boy scooted an inch forward.

“No, no! Closer. Front seat, kid.”

“But Gunmax, that's your seat,” Drill Boy excused himself. He did really want to touch Gunmax but he didn't know how he would react if he felt how hot his own plating was. It could be good or bad. Better to play it safe.

“Doesn't mean we can't share it.” Gunmax's wink was pointless under his visor, but his smirk was visible.

That smirk was a clear go-ahead, but he didn't believe it. Nervously, Drill Boy scooted until he was sitting in the front seat. 

In Gunmax's seat.

Hell, he just made himself Gunmax's seat.

So Gunmax sat right on his red and white seat. Scalding hot plating hissed as Gunmax touched it. He moved his knees outside of Drill Boy's.

Drill Boy tensed up, gasping at the sudden presence of that aft right on him and Gunmax was grinding right on his panel.

Gunmax twisted his torso to look at kid. “Drill Boy.” He came this far but he had to be sure he could go farther. “Just to make things clear, you do want to  _fuck, right?_ ”

“Want to what?” Poor orange bot had an open-mouth frown. He knew the last word he said, but didn't know what 'fakku' meant. He remembered that Knight said it (didn't have an U at the end, though) around his Lady once, her face matched her outfit, and she yelled at the ambulance in English. Westerners were weird. Still, Drill Boy shivered a little. Gumax's English always made him want to shut him up with his mouth.

“Fuck. Bang. Interface. Your spike, my valve,” Gunmax elaborated in Japanese. Jeez, this kid was dense.

“Oh, I thought- Uh, um, I...” Drill Boy couldn't talk, so he just nodded. A lot.

Gunmax saw this as hesitation and asked softer. “You sure? I know we're both more than revved,” Gunmax did 'get revved' despite what the transforming bots teased him about, “But I wouldn't mind just making out.” Which they had yet to do. Should probably fix that soon.

This time Drill Boy shook his head. “No! I wanna do this. I-” His face felt like it was going to melt. “I want my spike in your valve,” He finished with a determined tone.

Gunmax wanted to pound him into the ground right then. Good to know he was good to go. He turned back to facing forward. “ _Baby, baby,_  it's alright. Let's see what you got.”

Layered clicks sounded when they both retracted their armor.

Drill Boy couldn't see Gunmax's spike or valve because of the angle, but he could feel the warmth on his own spike and thighs. That pleasant source of heat touched the anterior surface of his spike because of the position.

“ _Love it,_ ” Gunmax remarked at the spike. White shaft, orange hilt, and little green spiral decorations (Or maybe it was meant to be a drill?) heading down. He curled over to see where the decorations led (around his valve folds) and the kid must've really liked soccer, because his external node was a soccer ball. Gunmax didn't laugh, even though he really wanted to because that was such a childish thing, fitting Drill Boy perfectly. Dumpson owed him a barrel of premium fuel, though.

Folds wrapped over the white surface as Gunmax slid over the spike, not yet sheathing it. The tip parted the valve lips and poked his external node. Lubricant clung to the surface with each pass.

Drill Boy pressed hard onto his back. “You mean it?” the orange bot asked as his hips twitched into the green aft. If this already felt amazing, he couldn't imagine how it'd feel inside.

Gunmax turned his head to kiss one of Drill Boy's buccal drills. “ _Perfect, baby,_ ” He purred in English. “But I want more. Wanna face you when I 'face you.”

A gasp sounded from his vocalizer as Gunmax retreated. Hips still twitching, Drill Boy rubbed his own spike. Automatically he mimicked the motion Gunmax has started, using the palm of his hand to cup his spike's anterior surface.

“Hey, I'm right here. It's okay. Here, turn around,” Gunmax helped the lost mech sit backwards on his bike. Drill Boy laid on the instrument panel with his feet under the back seat's steps. Gunmax then got on again, standing with his feet on the ground either side of the bike, so he hovered above Drill Boy's lap once again. “See? Wasn't gonna leave us both hanging.”

Drill Boy could feel the heat radiating from Gunmax. That valve was so close to him. He wanted nothing more than to be encased by that mesh. Outer lips had a circling stripe of red. Inner lips were grey and green like the rest of his plating.

The gradient effect mesmerized Drill Boy. He could have gotten lost if Gunmax's external node's flashy yellow caught his attention. It peeked out from under a small hood, same translucent blue as his visor. Good to know he wasn't the only one with a ridiculous custom node. Finally stopping his slowed stroking of his own spike, he reached out and touched the bud with three fingers.

Gunmax made an open mouth smile. “Yeah, that feels great. You want me to play with your valve, too?” He was unashamedly stroking his own length (Green with red vertical stripes, like his valve, Drill Boy noticed) at that point.

The yellow node was rolled in a circular motion. “Ooh, later. Right now I wanna- I wanna be in you.” Drill Boy didn't know if he wanted later to be sooner or not. The idea of those fingers exploring inside him, maybe even that sharp tongue, too, made him bite his lip.

“Alright, later,” Gunmax laughed. He stopped playing with his own spike to take Drill Boy's hand's place at his own node, felt his valve lips catch the spike tip, and sunk right down. Fingers traced the node clockwise then, slid into an inverted V to stimulate either side.

Drill Boy stopped breathing when Gunmax moved up and down quickly along his length to spread lubricant evenly along their equipment. Impatient white hands rubbed the grey thighs with want and slid up to cup the green aft.

When Gunmax slid slowly, sheathing Drill Boy, and stayed covering him, his breathing began again. Gunmax reluctantly grabbed one of the kid's hands that had retreated to his aft. He made a show of licking its fingers, trailing his tongue along the servos, and guided it to his node. Getting the hint, Drill Boy massaged the nub with his thumb while his other fingers laid on green pelvic plating. He focused on a downward stroke, petting the thin hood.

A white foot balanced on the motorcycle's step, shifting the valve lining ever so slightly. Pleased at the brush of pleasure, Gunmax planted his hands on Drill Boy's pauldron drills and gave an experimental bounce.

“Gunmax,” the orange mech said wantonly, pawing at a shoulder. Catching a pauldron he pulled it down. He clumsily pursed his lips and closed his eyes.

Seeing what he was trying to do, Gunmax met him a little more than halfway. Hips turned in a wide, slow circle. He fondled Drill Boy's chest soccer ball and held onto a buccal drill to guide the warm faceplates to his own.

First attempt was a clash of a dark bill and orange helm kibble. They laughed it off. Gunmax guided Drill Boy's head to tilt ever so slightly, mirrored him, then properly kissed the boy. Enthusiastic moaning was Gunmax's sign he did it right. He rose up on the spike. He lapped at Drill Boy's lower lip and slowly headed inside. He slid back down on the spike.

The simple repetition earned him Drill Boy keeping his teeth away as he tried to reciprocate. Deciding to humor the boy, the officer decided to let him try. The kissing 'technique', if it could even be called that, would have felt good in his valve. In his mouth, however, it was awful. Too much tongue, absolutely no teeth. The kid's energy was great, yeah, but that only earned so many points. The hand on his shoulder wrapped up to lay its palm on the back of his head, pressing him more into the kiss. Gunmax continued his slow rise and fall.

Drill Boy could have cried. Slick, wet, welcoming heat on his spike, in his hand, and in his mouth. He pulled back to breathe. “More.”

And Gunmax gave him that. He slid his hips forward. Drill Boy's wrist bent too far back.

“Ow, hey!”

“ _My bad_.” Gunmax took Drill Boy's strained wrist, the hand that had been making his external node very happy. “Want me to kiss it better?” Gunmax lapped up the fluid residue and moved the hand. This time, Drill Boy's fingers curled around his spike. A tilt of his hips and his node would grind on red plating, so it was no loss.

Adjusting himself, Gunmax resumed his hips' rocking and rolling. He rested his elbows on the console either side of Drill Boy's head and puffed hot air onto his partner's face, receiving a high groan at the change of angle.

Drill Boy took his hand off the back of Gunmax's head and grabbed his hand. Gunmax smiled at the sweet gesture and laced their fingers. “Wow, you feel amazinnng.” Drill Boy's body undulated in a slow wave. He let his head rest on the instrument panel. “Harder, come on!” In case the officer didn't get the message, he gave a few dragging pulls to the spike.

If Gunmax had been sitting upright he would have fallen over, potentially knocking over both of them and the bike. Brat.

Brat also left his throat exposed. Gunmax gnawed at the white plating, enjoying the vibrations he caused. He ground his hips backwards and lapped at the throat. He laughed when Drill Boy's impatient hips jumped. “You're eager no matter what you're doing,” Gunmax teased.

“Uh-huh,” Was Drill Boy's eloquent response. Gunmax's valve's grasp was tighter than a fist. It contracted in pulses, never staying still. He squeezed his hand and let out a hiss of pleasure through clenched teeth. Gunmax really knew what he was doing. And he was really good at it, too. “Gunmax...”

Gunmax gave him a short kiss on the mouth. “It's alright,  _baby_. You don't have to tighten up,” His valve demonstrated his words. “Duke is more relaxed than you. Why don't you let go? Let me do the work, for once.”

Drill Boy wished he did the work in the office, too. A sharp thrust cut off that thought. Drill Boy was holding back, partly in disbelief that he was here doing it with Gunmax, partly out of habit (He could be quiet if his dignity depended on it. It would be too embarrassing to be caught self-servicing), partly he was going to overload so hard he wanted to make sure he could remember this moment and didn't blow his brains out.

Gunmax soothed the white abdominal plating. “ _Come on, baby._  I know you're holding out.” He gave a hard rock of his hips.

The hand on his spike rubbed faster, a lot faster. He sped up his grinding thrusts to match the pace. He clenched on the white spike for a good measure.

“Gunmax. Gunmax! I'm gonna overload. Gunmax,” Drill Boy babbled and whined. His back arched and he squeezed Gunmax's hand. “More. Gunmax, MORE.”

Kid was getting desperate. Good. “Uh, uh, uh!” He tried nibbling on Drill Boy's audial but ended up biting it with his brutal pace. “Didn't say 'please',” He rasped, loving the way the boy cried his name, full of worship. He was just messing with the kid at this point. Brat could've came twice already if he wasn't such a masochist. Who holds off orgasm in a casual fuck?

Drill Boy shuddered intensely, “Please, please, please, Gunmax! Please, more, I need it. I need more, please, Gunmax. GunMAX!” His babbles turned into screams at that point.

Gunmax had teased the kid enough. His own need for overload, although he didn't act as desperate as the brat, was about the same. He kissed him hard, licked his buccal drills, nipped his throat, moving his mouth all over. “ _Good boy_. Give it to me, _baby_.” He leaned back and rotated his hips like a ball joint. “Overload for me. _Good boy_. Let go, Drill Boy, _good boy_ ,” He endlessly praised the kid. He felt an extra bit of fluid leak into his valve. Whether it was from himself or Drill Boy, he didn't care.

Drill Boy did give it to him. His back draped over the console, hips leaping and rolling up, legs kicking, hand crushing, and he screamed Gunmax's name. Gunmax kept thrusting hard and fast to help him along. Damn, now that was an overload.

The movements rattled the motorcycle, and if Gunmax wasn't so pleased with his own interfacing abilities he would have cared. He let go of Drill Boy's hand to pet his head. “Fill me up,  _baby_. There we go, just like that.  _Good boy._ ”

Reaching down he quickly finished himself, rubbing his external node raw while slamming down on the jumping spike. He rolled his own hips in great waves. Drill Boy was still jerking his spike like a good little boy. He took a soundless, deep breath and gaped up at the ceiling. His valve clenched hard around the hard length. His own spike spit up transfluid over white midriff and fingers.

He rode out his orgasm until his arm supporting him gave out, hips still circling. He didn't notice their unconscious undulation.“Alright, hands off li'l Max,” he sighed at the continued contact on his oversensitized metal. Drill Boy immediately obeyed. Gunmax slumped onto Drill Boy's chest. His cheek nuzzled the soccer ball.

“Gunmax,” Drill Boy mumbled.

“You good, kid?” Gunmax kissed his forehead, petted it, and kissed him on the mouth.

“Yeah, yeah. Mmm. Gunmax,”

Shit, he fucked the brat's circuits out. He figured he was just saying his name but acted like it was a question anyway. “Yeah?” He cradled a drill.

Drill Boy nuzzled Gunmax's hand. “Carry me back?”

Fluid dripped off their plating onto gun bike. They made a mess. Gunmax rubbed his valve rim and eased off the spike. No way was he gonna drag that brat's red, hot aft into the base. His knees couldn't even hold his own weight. He distracted his partner with some kisses.

Eh, they could clean up later.


End file.
